This is Hell
by The Cynic
Summary: I think this is the first Jess-fic on ff.net.... Anyway. A fairly episodic look into the life of Luke's nephew, Jesse. A character everyone loves to hate... o_O;;


Summary & disclaimer: A fairly episodic look into parts of Jess' past and his arrival in Stars Hollow. Little to no dialogue from the episode with him in it.... There's no way to find it! I apologize if I got his last name wrong; I don't remember it being said in the episode so I just invented one that sounded nice, but hey, I could be wrong. Jess' expanded personality and Rob belong to me. 'The Howl' belongs to Allen Ginsberg. Gilmore Girls and all the characters therein belong to Amy Sherman Paladino & the WB. Not me. Heh. Rated PG-13 for language.   
  
+   
  
THIS IS HELL   
  
+   
  
Jess sat on the plastic chair, attempting to find a more comfortable position to settle into. It was bright orange, shiny plastic, and the back curved strangely in a way that no human back could possibly conform to without pain. All the chairs were the same color, a row of obnoxiously cheerful places to rest your ass. Police stations were all the same. How fucking stupid can you be? he wondered. He shouldn't've speeded up when he saw the police car. That was dumb.   
  
Even dumber to be driving with the pot.   
  
And dumber yet to be driving after smoking it.   
  
Or to be driving on a suspended license...   
  
Jess listed in his head the amount of stupid things he'd done. But hey, stupid things ran in the family, didn't they? Lizzy had married his father... Luke hadn't gone to college, just worked in that hole of a hardware store or diner or whatever it was this week... It was almost a tradition. He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands, the high wearing off.   
  
Feet appeared in his line of vision.   
  
"So, Mr. Wilson," the officer said, trying to keep a smirk out of his voice. "Welcome back."   
  
Jess looked up, dismayed, into the slightly pudgy face of Officer Thomas. "Uh, hi."   
  
"Driving under the influence, eh?"   
  
"No shit. Regular Sherlock Holmes, aren't you?"   
  
"Don't be a smartass, Wilson," the cop growled at Jess, "We also have a security tape from outside of Starbucks."   
  
Oh shit.   
  
"You're quite the graffiti artist... What's this that you wrote? 'Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated'?"   
  
Say nothing.   
  
+   
  
"Again?" Lizzy shrieked, as she pulled the car out of the police station parking lot. The rubber wheels squealed unpleasantly on the asphalt, echoing her voice. "Jess, I don't know what to do with you!"   
  
"Not like you ever try."   
  
"You're driving me insane--"   
  
"--insaner," Jess supplied in helpful monotone.   
  
"SHUT UP! Just SHUT UP!" his mother screamed, "I can't deal with this!" She cut viciously through a red light, ignoring the horns and raised fingers directed her way.   
  
I'm going to die, he thought. The traffic lights flickered in the darkness as she drove, bright colored fireflies in the dimness. She would hit something and it would all be over.   
  
Not a bad thing, a treacherous piece of his mind whispered.   
  
Coward. Only people who couldn't deal with life thought like that.   
  
Whatever Jess was, he wasn't a coward. "Lizzy! Slow down, you stupid bitch!"   
  
She was sobbing loudly, hysterically. "Why can't you be a good child?"   
  
He said nothing, just slouched further down in his seat. Who /could/ be a good kid, with a hysterical, over-dramatic mother like Lizzy?   
  
"—sending you to Stars Hollow," she was saying.   
  
"What?" Jess demanded, dismayed.   
  
"You'll live with Luke! He'll take you. I know he will." She was drawing huge, hiccuping breaths. "I—can't—deal—with you. Not anymore."   
  
"Thanks a lot, Lizzy."   
  
"I'm serious! I won't have you around the house any more! You'll start packing the minute you get home!"   
  
"Uh, Lizzy?"   
  
"What?" she snapped.   
  
"Shouldn't you actually call him, first?"   
  
+   
  
"Dude, that's harsh," Rob said, eyes widening.   
  
"Yeah," Jess said.   
  
"She's just shipping you off? No chance you could get out?"   
  
"Fuck no. You think I didn't fucking try?"   
  
"Your mom's a psycho bitch."   
  
"On crack." They sniggered, before realizing it really wasn't funny, and that they probably wouldn't be able to see each other again for a while. There was an awkward moment of silence. Neither teenager was good at emoting.   
  
"Fuck, this is it, isn't it?" Rob muttered.   
  
"I can't believe she's doing this to me."   
  
He'd known Rob since both of them were little kids. They'd grown up together, listened to the same music, gone to punk shows together, gotten into trouble together. Twice they'd even been arrested together. They finished each other's sentences. Rob made him laugh when Lizzy's antics would've driven him insane.   
  
And now he was being shanghaied to some shit town where there wouldn't be anyone to talk to. They hadn't seen Luke in seven years, so it would be almost like living with a stranger. "God, I /hate/ her," he said, voice cracking.   
  
Rob shifted nervously on the grass, unsure of what to say. "Look at it this way, man, it's not forever."   
  
"It might as well be."   
  
"I'm really sorry."   
  
Jess laughed. "It's not your fault."   
  
"Well.... I did give you the weed...."   
  
"I would've had it anyway."   
  
"If it's really bad you can run away and hitchhike back here. I'll hide you."   
  
"Thanks," Jess said, and meant it sincerely.   
  
They clasped hands once, and then Jess slouched off down the street, back to the house where his mother didn't want him anymore.   
  
+   
  
Jess sat on the bus to Stars Hollow, unable to believe that he was actually leaving his friends, leaving his home. Well, leaving Lizzy wouldn't be such a bad thing, but it seemed so strange that she would uproot him like this, kick him out of the house and spit him into the black pit of this fucking small town.... He buried himself in a battered copy of Ginsberg, drowning out the world.   
  
And who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open to a room full of steamheat and opium....   
  
There was a frightened looking man sitting on the seat across from him. He was clutching a beat-up suitcase to his chest, as though it was a lifeline, and his watery blue eyes swiveled suspiciously over the rest of the passengers, half expecting them to rob or beat him. Jess had no respect for people like that. There was a black woman, idly flipping through a copy of Time magazine, muttering something against businessmen in general.   
  
And there was, of course, Ginsberg.   
  
Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried....   
  
The bus rolled to a halt, and the driver called cheerily, "Stars Hollow stop! Welcome to town!"   
  
He hated it already.   
  
Jess rolled up his battered copy of 'The Howl' and shoved it into his back pocket, grabbing his suitcase and stepping down from the bus step. A man stood there waiting, awkwardly, in plaid shirt and backward baseball cap. This must be Luke. Jess fought back the urge to start singing the Lumberjack song. Luke made an equally bumbling attempt at commentary, but Jess did his utter best to tune him out.   
  
He's a lumberjack and he's okay....   
  
+   
  
Jess' loose sneakers slapped loudly on the pavement, a cool night, though his face burned with a combination of anger and embarrassment. It was all Luke's fault! He didn't want to have to listen to that woman Lorelai babble about nothing the entire night. She was exceptionally good at it. That was the reason he'd snapped. Stars Hollow just brought out the worst in him.   
  
And then there was Rory. How could he not like anyone who read 'The Howl?' The borrowed copy was secure in his back pocket, he was going to fix it up for her as a peace offering, because it was obvious she really cared about her mother and she'd probably be angry and he really didn't want her to be angry at him. The long thought chopped off abruptly, going on to another one, that girl was the first person he'd been able to talk to in this town so far.   
  
Certainly more interesting than Lumberjack Luke, who would probably be following in a minute. This whole place was fucking nuts, completely psycho, like that half-sized garden gnome smoking a pipe. Jess grinned suddenly and picked it up, tucking it under his arm as he ran down the street. Maybe he'd sell it, or keep it as a novelty piece.... But it was his little revenge against Stars Hollow.   
  
"Jess! JESS!" someone called, from down the street, but he was gone, and Luke stood alone in the moonlight.   
  
+   
  
Jess sat idly on the park bench, inhaling the smoke of the cigarette, holding it in his lungs and letting the carcinogens slowly burn away the tissues and delicate alveoli. In the end, lung cancer was what did old man Danes in, his grandfather and Lizzy and Luke's father. Jess thought sardonically to himself that it was a good thing to keep a family tradition.   
  
The ash gathered on the edge of the white paper so he took the cigarette out of his mouth and flicked the discolored curls onto the ground, watching them fall. He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as he watched the insufferably cute citizens of Stars Hollow enjoying the lovely Sunday morning.   
  
Two children frolicked by the pond, feeding fuzzy little goslings. That matching, creepy mother-and-daughter walked by him again, the daughter staring at Jess with wide blue eyes. He sighed and looked away, tossing the spent cigarette onto the ground and crushing it out with his boot. An angry, stalking footstep was drawing closer, and he looked up into the enraged face of Lumberjack Luke.   
  
+   
  
"What the fuck?!" Jess spluttered, surfacing from the pond. Lumberjack, walking away, didn't even look back. "I fucking hate you! You don't control my fucking life!" he screamed, but the bastard didn't even look back.   
  
Burning red with discomfiture, he pushed sodden hair away from his eyes, and tried to climb out of the pond by pulling himself onto the bridge. Jess slipped, toppled back into the water, and arose cursing again.   
  
It was going to be a long day.   
  
+   
  
"MISter Wilson," the teacher said nastily, enjoying every moment of Jess' humiliation, "WHY don't you tell me what Shakespeare meant in lines 41 and that paragraph onward?"   
  
Jess stared up at him, and yawned. "I think he meant to show us that Hamlet talked too goddamn much." The class snickered, and the teacher glared.   
  
"That is NOT what he meant," he growled.   
  
"But he does talk too much, doesn't he, sir?" Jess asked innocently.   
  
"That isn't the point," the teacher said; "Would anyone ELSE like to answer?"   
  
Jess tuned him out and slipped Rory's copy of 'The Howl' from his pockets, flipping through it. Rory had already written things along the margins, and he grinned to himself as he read her thoughts.... She'd cross referenced to Kerouac, Solomon, and Cassady. How could he not want to get to know this girl better? Jess attempted to ignore the teacher's droning as he scribbled in some notes of his own.   
  
"MISter Wilson!"   
  
"Uh?"   
  
"Are you paying attention?"   
  
"No."   
  
It was going to be a long day....   
  
+   
  
She smiled at him, he thought, as she walked away. He stood with his hands in his pockets and watched her go, silent into the night.   
  
And he grinned to himself, half self-consciously. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all. 


End file.
